Small Steps
by 3rdgal
Summary: I've spent years trying to prepare myself for the possibility that your brother could be injured on the job. I haven't really accepted it, but I've tried. But this... this accident...
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters and I don't make any money off of them.

**A/N:** I'd like to thank my wonderful, tireless beta, ritt, for all of her help and for filling in when that pesky muse skips town.

**Present Time**

Don watched as the ceiling tiles rushed by overhead. _Tile, tile, tile, light. Tile, tile, tile, light._ It was so mesmerizing that he felt himself begin to drift away from his body, away from the pain. A rough jarring of whatever he was lying on – _a gurney,_ his sluggish mind suggested – brought him crashing back into his body. White hot pain was centered in his chest and stomach, rapidly spreading to include his left shoulder. He closed his eyes and tried to curl into a ball to contain the agony, but was held flat on his back by wide restraints. Don tried to move his head for a better look, and frowned as he realized that it was restricted by some sort of collar and padding on either side. He moaned in pain and frustration, surprised at how muffled the sound was until he realized there was an oxygen mask strapped over his face.

He heard voices surrounding him and calling out words and phrases that he didn't recognize, as the gurney steadily rolled toward… well, he didn't know that part yet. In the middle of the chaos that threatened to overwhelm him, Don became aware of a calming presence somewhere near his head. He concentrated deeply, trying to block out everything but that presence. He finally succeeded, singling out one familiar voice among the others. That person was speaking in very soothing tones and Don could actually make out some of the words. "...Don't leave me... help... soon... better..."

He attempted to nod to let the person know that he heard him, but gasped as he ignited a fresh wave of agony in his battered body. He moaned deeply against the increased pain and tried to recede into the darkness lingering on the periphery, but was stopped short by a firm pressure around his hand. Don frowned as he squeezed back, feeling the pressure increase by an equal amount. _Someone was holding his hand._ He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off as the gurney suddenly lurched upwards, the hand in his grip slipping away from him. Alarmed, he flailed his hand as much as he could while being restrained. He _needed_ that hand back in his – that grip was keeping him grounded.

Don felt the gurney slam to a stop – inside an ambulance, he assumed. The vehicle rocked as two more people climbed in, one of them shushing him as the strong, reassuring grip returned. The same familiar voice from earlier was speaking again. "Shh... okay... hospital... called Dad..." Don felt a thumb lightly stroking the back of his hand and his spirits lifted as he wearily deduced who the person must be. "Charlie?" he weakly croaked.

"It's me," Charlie answered. "Hang on... soon... eyes open... please?"

For the life of him Don could not will his eyes open as they had suddenly been weighted down by some unseen force. He concentrated all of his energy on his voice. "Can't," he breathed. "Too heavy."

"You need to try," Charlie told him, his voice becoming clearer as Don's senses began to return. He felt a new pressure, this time on his forehead. "You need to stay awake, Don." Don heard a note of fear in his brother's voice and renewed his efforts to open his eyes, if only to ease Charlie's mind. He eventually succeeded and was greeted by a radiant smile. "That's it," Charlie encouraged him.

Don's eyes started to drift shut again, but he forced them to stay open as Charlie gently squeezed his hand. He assumed that Charlie must be unhurt, but still wanted to be certain. "You hurt?"

--

Charlie couldn't believe Don had asked him that question. Here was his brother, severely injured and lying on a gurney, but his main concern was Charlie's safety. "I'm fine, Don – not a scratch on me."

"'S good." Charlie watched Don sleepily blink his eyes as he tried to stay awake. He knew his brother's condition was serious, and he was trying to keep his panic at bay. He'd seen the looks on the paramedics' faces when they'd first seen Don, remembered the haste with which they had moved as he'd explained what had happened. He found himself stroking Don's still damp hair as the images of what had happened to him continuously played in his head. Whether he was trying to soothe Don or soothe himself, he didn't know, but he continued to maintain the gentle rhythm.

Soon, but not soon enough for Charlie's liking, they were parked in front of the ER and Don was unloaded from the ambulance. Charlie hopped out with him, refusing to let his brother's hand slip from his grasp again. He jogged to keep up with the gurney as the paramedics rolled it through the doors, calling out vitals and information to the nurses that greeted them. Charlie felt a hand on his shoulder as a woman tried to insert herself between him and Don. _Not going to happen,_ he silently growled.

"You have to let go, sir."

Charlie ignored the polite yet firm voice in his ear.

"Sir," the nurse spoke again. "You need to let go now."

Charlie shook his head, his eyes never leaving Don's face. Don had kept his eyes open for him this whole way, had clung to his hand like a drowning man, and he would be damned if he was going to abandon him now.

"We can't help him until you let go."

That got his attention. He reluctantly tore his eyes from his brother and looked at the nurse. "But..." he trailed off.

"Sir, he needs help and we're going to give it to him, but you can't go back to the exam area." The nurse gently gripped his right arm and tugged on it. "Let go for me. Let go for him."

Charlie turned his tearful gaze back to Don, forcing himself to smile as his brother's heavy lidded eyes looked up at him. "They're going to take care of you now," Charlie whispered to him. "I'll be waiting for you."

"Leaving?" Don whispered so faintly that Charlie had to lean over to hear him.

He brought both hands up to cup Don's cheeks. "I'll be right here waiting for you. As soon as you're out, I'll be back." He glanced up at the nurse who smiled and nodded before looking at Don again. "It'll be fine – I promise."

"...kay."

Charlie stood and forced himself to let go of his brother and watched as they rushed him into the exam area. Unconsciously wiping at a tear rolling down his cheek, he hoped their father would arrive soon because now he wanted someone to tell _him_ that everything was going to be okay.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Two Hours Earlier**

Don strolled through the doors of the CalSci Chemistry building. Charlie's message had told him to meet in lab room five. He scanned the doors, frowning as he realized none of them actually had room numbers. "Thanks for the info, Chuck," he muttered under his breath. He stopped at the first door on the right, peering inside and finding it empty. _Not five, then._ He continued walking down the hallway to the second door. It was closed so Don peered inside through the small window, seeing nothing but a half-filled beaker and an open window. _Not five, either._

"Don!"

He looked up and saw Charlie waving at him from the end of the hallway. "Charlie! Lab room five?"

"Sorry, Don. I forgot they took the room numbers down to paint." Charlie pointed to the side. "We're in here."

Don shook his head, suppressing a smile as the phrase 'absent-minded professor' sprang up into his mind. He stepped away from the door, letting the grin spread over his face at Charlie's contrite look. He was no more than three steps from the door when he felt an unknown force slam into him, knocking him across the hall and into the wall. He vaguely registered a loud booming noise as the most intense pain he had ever felt dug itself into his stomach and back. His head started pounding and his vision grayed as the world tilted to one side. He thought he could just make out Charlie standing frozen at the end of the hallway, staring at him in shock. He tried to lift an arm to let Charlie know that he was okay – _yeah, he's really going to believe that_ – but the attempt at movement sent a new wave of pain shooting through his body, and he mercifully passed out.

--

Charlie glanced at his watch. Where in the world was Don? _I thought this case was important to him. I could be working on my class lecture._ Charlie tamped down the anger, rationalizing that his brother might have been held up at work. He glanced over at Larry who was putting the finishing touches on their demonstration for Don. He laughed out loud at his friend's crinkled nose and disgusted expression. "What?" he asked.

"That awful paint smell, Charles. Is it not assaulting your senses too?"

"Paint!" Charlie cried. Larry raised an eyebrow in query. "I told Don lab five, but the signs aren't up. No wonder he's late!" Charlie darted out of the room and looked down the hallway, spotting Don peering into room number two. "Don!" Charlie waved to catch his eye.

"Charlie!" Don yelled, frustration in his voice. "Lab room five?"

_Oh great, he's upset already._ "Sorry, Don," Charlie called in his most apologetic voice. "I forgot they took the room numbers down to paint." He tried to look remorseful as he gestured to the doorway beside him. "We're in here." He watched as a smile flickered on Don's face before finally lighting it up. _He must not be that mad after all._

He watched Don take a few steps toward him and was about to return to the room, when a large noise filled the hallway, followed by a concussion wave that almost knocked him off his feet. He staggered as he tried to comprehend what he had just witnessed. The lab next to Don had just blown up – he'd seen the heavy metal doors and door frame fly from the classroom and straight into Don's body. His heart broke as he watched his brother slam into the wall, the doors crushing him against it before falling away. His mind screamed at him to go to Don, to make sure he was alive and to help him, but his body had ceased to obey his commands. He saw Don weakly try to lift an arm before it crashed back to the ground, his body going completely still.

"Charles!" Larry yelled at him as he entered the hallway. "What on earth was that noise?" Larry stared as his colleague and became alarmed when Charlie didn't acknowledge his presence. "Charles?" has asked again more firmly. He followed the younger man's gaze down the hallway, gasping when he recognized Don's crumpled body lying haphazardly against the wall. Larry grabbed Charlie's arm and propelled them both down the hallway toward the injured man.

"Don?" Charlie called pleadingly as he sank to his knees next to his brother. "Don!" He reached out and held his fingers against his brother's neck, immensely relieved to detect a pulse, but sensing that it wasn't beating quite like it should.

He glanced around the area, noting that there were no flames in the hallway, although there was smoke drifting out of the damaged lab room. The heavy metal doors had bounced off the wall – no, off of Don – and landed a few feet away. Charlie's eyes swept over Don's body, surprised to see no signs of visible injury, save for a rapidly forming bruise on his right cheek.

"Stay with Don," Larry told him. Charlie glanced up to see his friend approach the lab room and cautiously peer inside. He glanced back over his shoulder. "The fires seem to have burned out – just a few smoldering places."

Charlie's stunned mind began to process his surroundings – the chemistry building. "Chemical explosion," he shakily told Larry. "Can you tell if it was a chemical explosion?"

Larry shook his head. "No, there's nothing left intact to indicate the source of detonation." He met Charlie's eyes. "Oh my God..."

"We have to get him to the emergency shower," Charlie said as he gently eased Don onto his back to better grip him under his arms. "Help me!"

Larry joined him and grabbed Don's feet. The two men groaned as they hefted the heavier man off the ground and awkwardly shuffled to the closest undamaged lab. They made it to the shower and gently set him down. Charlie began unbuttoning Don's shirt while Larry pulled the overhead chain to initiate the flow of water, making sure to rinse his hands in the process. "I'm going to call for help."

"Call my father, too," Charlie advised him as he slid his brother's shirt off of his body. He pulled Don's undershirt out of his waistband and gently slid it up his torso, gasping at the dark purple bruises that covered Don's upper abdomen. He gently leaned his brother forward to pull the now wet undershirt off, and saw another purple bruise covering his lower back. "Oh God," he whispered brokenly. He began directing the flow of water to rinse Don's chest and back, gently running his hands along the bruised flesh to ensure he was efficiently rinsing off whatever chemical residue might be left behind. His eyes filled with tears as Don quietly moaned in pain. "Don? Are you with me?" His brother didn't rouse, but continued moaning as Charlie guided the water across his body.

He finished bathing Don's torso and glanced down, relieved to see that his lower body seemed to be unaffected by the accident. He knew that he wouldn't be able to remove Don's pants without help, so he settled for thoroughly rinsing them. He then turned his attention to running the water over Don's head, gently stroking his fingers through his dark hair as he made sure that it was thoroughly drenched. He and Don both winced in unison as Charlie's gentle hand grazed over a knot just above and behind his brother's left ear. Parting the hair there, he found a sluggishly bleeding gash about two and a half inches long.

Satisfied his brother was no longer in danger from any potential residue, Charlie slid him away from the shower to lean against the lab counter. He sat next to Don and caught his body as it listed toward him, cradling his injured brother to his chest as his body began to lightly tremble. "Hang on," Charlie pleaded. "You have to hang on."

--

Don's ears were ringing and he could see nothing but darkness. _Where am I?_ he wondered to himself. He determined that his eyes must be closed, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out how to open them. He strained to hear anything over the noise in his ears and gave up as his head rewarded him with an intense throbbing sensation. The headache quickly became the least of his problems as his chest, stomach, and back were assaulted with the most agonizing pain that he could ever remember feeling. Don tried to voice his discomfort but couldn't tell if he succeeded over the ever-present ringing. The intensity of the pain died down as whatever had set it off stopped, but an unpleasant ache still remained.

Don felt a touch on his head and concentrated as it roamed across his scalp, trying to figure out what was going on. He clenched his eyes shut as pressure ignited a stinging pain that began to beat in time with his headache. The weight was suddenly gone and his stomach lurched as he felt himself being dragged along the floor. He felt a hard surface against his shoulders as he was propped against something, and took a moment to fight down a rising wave of nausea and dizziness. He did manage to keep himself from becoming sick, but lost the battle against gravity and began to fall on his side, bracing himself for the new agony he knew the impact with the floor would bring him. Surprise and relief washed over him as he was stopped mid-fall and cocooned in soft warmth. Don weakly tried to burrow into it as he suddenly realized that he was very wet and very cold.

--

"In here!"

Charlie looked up to see Larry directing the paramedics into the room. He felt a tremendous sense of relief as two very composed men rushed in, pulling a gurney behind them. They both gave Charlie a brief smile as they knelt on either side of Don. One of the men began recording Don's vitals while the other one took out a pen and propped a clipboard on his knee. "I'm Paul," he introduced himself. "I just need to get some information from you...?"

"Charlie," he answered, watching as the other paramedic began lightly running his hands over Don's scalp and neck. "This is Don Eppes. I'm his brother."

"Okay, Charlie. Can you tell me what happened?"

"There was an explosion," Charlie started, abruptly stopping as Don moaned loudly in his arms.

"Shoulder's injured," the second man said as his hand rested on Don's left shoulder. "Possible dislocation."

"Got it, Tom." Paul jotted a note on the board before looking up at Charlie again. "So, an explosion?"

"Um, yeah." He tried to gather his thoughts. "I was standing at the end of the hallway and the doors just flew into him. They... they knocked him across the hall." His stomach turned as he remembered the horrific sound Don's body had made as he'd been hurtled into the opposite wall.

"Did you see where the doors hit him? Back, stomach, head?"

"His lower back. Maybe his side too. It all happened so fast."

"You're doing great, Charlie." Paul patted his arm and nodded encouragingly.

Charlie nodded, his eyes glued to Tom as he ran his hands down Don's spine. Don moaned again as the man's hands ran across the dark bruise on Don's lower back.

"Charlie?" Paul waited for the younger man to look at him. "What else did you see? Were there flames, smoke, anything special we should know about?"

"No flames and all the smoke stayed in the lab for the most part." He hesitated as he tried to remember. "This is the chemistry building. We brought him here to wash off in case..." He trailed off, not able to bring himself to voice the thought.

"That was very quick thinking, Charlie. Good job." Paul flipped to another page. "How old is Don?"

"Thirty-six."

"Is he allergic to anything?"

"No."

"Are there any medical conditions we need to know about?"

"No."

"Any family history we need to know about?"

Charlie's heart broke. "Cancer," he whispered. "Our mother."

"Okay, thanks Charlie." Paul set the clipboard down as Tom lifted the backboard from the gurney. "I need you to let go of Don for me, and stand over here." Paul gestured off to the side.

Charlie numbly realized that they had let him hold Don during the entire exam. He smiled a belated thank you as he gently shifted Don into Paul's hands. He moved to stand out of the way and watched in morbid fascination as the medics carefully straightened his brother's body before fastening a cervical collar around his neck and sliding a backboard underneath him. Together the two men began fastening restraints in order to secure Don to the board, before lifting their patient from the floor and setting him on the gurney.

"You're coming with us?" Paul asked, although it was more of a statement than a question.

Charlie nodded and joined them at Don's side. An immense wave of sadness washed over him as he looked at his battered brother laying there, looking so helpless. He slipped a hand into Don's right one, trying to offer Don an anchor with which to brace himself, and nodded at Paul that he was ready to go.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Present Time**

Don suddenly felt very alone as he was rolled away from Charlie and into what he assumed was an exam area. There was a flurry of activity swirling around him, causing a feeling of anxiety to form in the pit of his stomach. He felt himself being lifted from the gurney – although he was still held tight to a hard surface – only to be gently placed onto another bed. Several people descended on him at once, and he desperately longed for his brother's calming presence. Without it, Don allowed himself to start slipping away from the frightening chaos around him.

As he faded, he became less aware of the voices and noises. 'BP and pulse' were the last two words he could understand before the silence of darkness slipped up to envelop him. A bright, piercing light was suddenly shining in his eyes and seemed to be trying to drag him back, but he would not be convinced. There was a tight pressure on his arm but he wasn't going to let that stop him either. Just when he thought he'd made his escape, loud voices started yelling in his ear. "BP's dropping!" "Don! Don, are you with us?"

He tried to rouse himself, regretting the decision immediately. His world lurched as his bed was rushed from the exam room and down a hallway. He saw the tiles and lights again rushing by overhead, but he was too damn tired to pay attention to them this time. All he was interested in was sleep, and for the shivering to stop. _Why am I so cold?_

"Don? Don!" He recognized one of the voices from earlier. "Listen to me. Can you hear me?" He squeezed the hand that had slipped into his. "We're on our way to the operating room. We're going to go inside and take a look around so we can fix you up as good as new, okay?" _Whatever,_ he thought. _Anything is better than this._

He was already starting to give in to unconsciousness as the bed screeched to a halt inside the operating theater. He was again lifted and moved to another bed, and the uncomfortable collar was removed. But now that he was able to move his head to look around, he found that all he wanted to do was to drift away into the darkness...

--

Charlie nervously fidgeted as he glanced around the waiting room. He intently studied the floor, the ceiling, the chairs, the magazines… anything that would distract him from the thoughts in his head. No matter how hard he tried, the image of Don's body flying through the air and crashing into the wall would insinuate itself into the forefront of his mind. Charlie pressed his hands over his face and rocked himself back and forth. _Where was Dad?_

Charlie glanced up at the entrance doors, willing his father to walk through them. They did open but only to reveal an older nurse carrying coffee. His heart sank and he dropped his gaze to the floor. Wringing his hands, Charlie began to allow the stream of numbers that had been hovering in the background to start creeping in.

_No!_ he yelled silently. _Don needs me. I willnot run away._ He took a deep breath as he pulled out his phone, checking to see if Alan had tried to call him, but the screen showed no missed calls. He was moving to put it away when it rang, startling him so badly that he almost dropped it. "Hello," he quickly answered.

"Charles," Larry's voice spoke. "Any word on Don's condition?"

"No," Charlie answered. "They took him back fifty-two minutes ago. I'm worried, Larry."

"You must remain optimistic," Larry encouraged him. "I'm certain the doctors are just being thorough." He paused. "I did call your father and he is on his way."

"Why isn't he here yet?" Charlie asked with worry in his voice.

"He was... _bowling_?" Larry said the word in disbelief. "With his business associate."

Despite the situation, a ghost of a smile appeared on Charlie's face. Their father had really taken to the sport since they had jokingly suggested he try it about a year and a half ago. "The bowling alley is pretty far away," he rationalized. "He should be here soon now."

Larry remained silent as Charlie spoke, sensing that his young friend was trying to console himself. "Charles, I have to stay here to help with the investigation, but call me if you need anything."

"I will, Larry. Thanks."

"If you see him before then, please tell Don that he is in my thoughts."

"I will." Charlie flipped the phone shut and slouched in his chair. He focused on taking deep, relaxing breaths. He did feel a bit better after talking to his friend, but was still anxious for his father to arrive.

"Charlie!"

He looked up and felt tears forming in his eyes as his father walked toward him. "Dad!" Charlie rose from his seat just in time for Alan to tightly embrace him.

"Are you all right?" Alan demanded as he held his youngest son close.

"I'm fine," Charlie answered, his reply muffled from his position against Alan's shoulder. "But Don..."

Alan leaned back and cupped Charlie's face in his hands. "How is he?" he asked gently.

"They haven't said. No one's told me anything." One of the tears escaped and made its way down his cheek. "I'm worried, Dad."

Alan pulled Charlie to him again and gently rubbed his back as he whispered to him. "He'll be fine. Your brother is a very strong man. And he's got a wonderful family waiting on him." Alan held Charlie as he nodded against his father's shoulder. "Hey," Alan spoke as he released his grip on Charlie. "Why don't you have a seat and I'll see if I can find out what's going on." Charlie nodded again as Alan gently guided him into a chair. "I'll be right back."

Charlie watched as his father left him to go to the nurses' station. He saw Alan quietly speak to a nurse – calmly at first, but growing more agitated as the nurse apparently didn't give him the information he wanted. Finally his father was practically yelling and the nurse quickly disappeared only to return a few minutes later with another nurse. She and Alan spoke briefly before he nodded and shook her hand. Charlie watched his father approach as he returned from the nurse's station.

"What is it?" Charlie asked as he attempted to rise from his seat.

Alan gently pushed him down as he sat in the chair next to him. "They don't have a lot of information," he began. "It seems that your brother was taken to emergency surgery."

Charlie's whole body went cold. "For what?"

"They don't have all the details. That or they just won't tell me." Alan cast an angry look back at the first nurse who had the common sense to quickly busy herself somewhere out of sight. He sighed and turned his gaze back to his son. "Rachel, the second nurse, was kind enough to give me what little information they have. She's going to take us up to the OR waiting room and then try to get hold of Don's doctor for us."

As if on cue, Rachel appeared and gestured for Alan and Charlie to follow her. She quietly led them down a hallway and into an elevator, pressing the button for the third floor. She smiled at the two men as the elevator slowly ascended, leading them to another, smaller waiting room after the doors had opened. She indicated for them to sit as she spoke to the nurse on duty. Nodding, she returned to the two men.

"Your son's doctor is Mike Scottsboro," she told them. "He's still in surgery with Don."

"Is that bad?" Charlie asked. "I mean, it's not good..." He stared at her in despair.

"Charlie, right?" He nodded and she continued. "Don's been in surgery for a little over an hour now – that's not too uncommon for this kind of surgery."

"What kind of surgery?" Alan demanded. He was growing angry at the runaround he seemed to be getting from the nursing staff.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Eppes – I just found out myself. Don was sent up here for suspected internal bleeding. The surgery is to determine the source of that bleeding and repair it."

"No," Charlie whispered. "How bad?"

Rachel slowly shook his head. "Unfortunately, I don't know that. The doctor will be able to tell you more when he comes out. I really wish I could give you more information." She looked at Alan in particular. "I really do."

He sensed she was being truthful and smiled in appreciation. "Thank you for telling me that much." He draped an arm around Charlie and pulled him close. "We'll be waiting for Doctor Scottsboro." As she left, he turned his gaze on Charlie, who still leaned against his shoulder. "You try to rest and I'll wake you up as soon as the doctor gets here."

Charlie nodded and closed his eyes, praying for a dream-free sleep.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

"Mr. Eppes?" a faint voice whispered. "Mr. Eppes, are you with us?"

_Are they talking to me? But Mr. Eppes is Dad._

More whispered voices and... a chuckle? "_Agent_ Eppes," the voice corrected, speaking a little louder this time.

So they _were_ talking to him. He guessed it would be rude not to answer, so he opened his mouth to speak, but no sound would come out.

"No talking, Agent Eppes – your throat is probably a bit sore. Can you open your eyes for me?"

_Hmm, can I?_ He struggled to do so, his eyelids twitching from the effort. He finally cracked them open and was greeted by a blurry, blond woman who was leaning over him. "It's nice to see those eyes," she said cheerfully. "Now, I need to ask you some questions, and I need you to answer yes or no. Since we don't want you to talk, can you move your head?" He gave it a shot and was excited to succeed in nodding his head. He still wasn't sure what was wrong with him, but surely being able to move his head was a good sign. "Okay, Agent Eppes, question number one – are you cold?"

He wasn't much of anything right now, actually. His limbs felt heavy and he wasn't sure if he had the strength to move anything besides his head. But cold? He shook his head no.

"Good. Do you feel sick?"

Well he hadn't until she had brought it up, but now his stomach was starting to churn. He was going to go for the macho answer, but decided throwing up all over himself might not be the most macho thing to do. He nodded yes.

"That's normal after anesthesia – don't worry – but we will keep an eye on you just in case. Do you feel dizzy or light-headed?" He shook his head. "Good. How's your breathing? Are you feeling short of breath?" Well, he didn't like the cannula that was stuck in his nose, but he could breathe, so he shook his head again. "Good, good." Don watched as she made some notes on a chart. "Are you in any pain?"

He took mental inventory of his body. The pain that had been manifested in his stomach and back earlier was no longer there, replaced instead by a warm, fuzzy sensation. He shook his head.

"That's very good to hear." He watched as she flipped his chart shut and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You can go back to sleep now. We're going to get you moved into a room and then we'll bring in your family to visit."

He smiled at the mention of his family before drifting back to sleep.

--

Charlie watched as Don flew through the air. It was happening in slow motion and he could see every last detail. He saw the doors as they blew away from the classroom, saw Don's sudden look of surprise and pain as the doors connected with his lower back. Charlie watched as his brother crashed into the wall, his left side and stomach taking most of the impact. The doors kept pressing against Don until Charlie was sure he had been crushed to death, before finally falling away. He watched his big brother slump to the ground, his face still twisted in agony. Watched as he tried to call Charlie for help, but failing as his hand flopped uselessly to the ground. Charlie rushed toward him, cursing aloud as the hallway lengthened with each step. He had to get to Don!

Suddenly he was there, sitting on his knees and staring, horrified, at the blood spreading around Don's body. His brother's dark eyes stared lifelessly from his ashen face. _I'm too late!_ "Don!" he screamed frantically. "Don!"

Charlie snapped awake, his eyes darting around the room. The waiting room, the hospital – now he remembered. He lifted his head from his father's shoulder, deliberately avoiding his father's concerned stare. "Are you okay, Charlie?"

He mutely nodded as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Charlie stretched his arms over his head, shocked as his joints loudly popped in the silence of the waiting room. The younger Eppes looked at his father and smiled to reassure him. Alan returned the smile and shook out his paper. Charlie glanced at the clock. He'd been asleep for forty minutes. "The doctor?" he nervously asked.

"He hasn't come by yet," Alan said, making a point of reading the paper. He didn't want to think about what that might mean any more than Charlie did.

Charlie sighed and shifted in the chair, trying to find a comfortable position, not that he planned on sleeping again – those dreams were too much for him until he knew for sure that Don was going to be all right.

"Eppes family?" The two men looked up and nodded at the nurse who was calling them from the doorway. She smiled brightly. "If you'll follow me, Doctor Scottsboro is ready to see you now."

They practically darted across the room, eagerly following the young nurse. "Is he okay?" Charlie asked.

"He made it through surgery," she promised them. "Doctor Scottsboro will go over all the details with you, including his care both here and at home."

"Home care?" Charlie questioned. "So that means he'll be coming home soon?"

The nurse gave him a patient smile. "Again, the doctor will discuss all of those details with you." She stopped in front of a wooden office door and let the two men inside.

"Ah," a middle aged man greeted them. "I'm Doctor Scottsboro." He firmly shook each man's hand.

"I'm Alan, Don's father. This is his younger brother Charlie."

"Please, have a seat." He waited for them to get settled before continuing in his deep, booming voice. "First of all, I wanted to let you know that Don came through the surgery with flying colors. He had a torn spleen which caused some internal bleeding, but we've repaired it and the bleeding has stopped. While we were in there, we went ahead and checked his other vital organs to be on the safe side. He has some bruising of the liver and kidneys, but nothing too serious. They should heal up quite nicely on their own." Charlie saw relief wash over his father's face, but couldn't quite bring himself to join him. "Don's left shoulder was dislocated so we've repaired that as well. He does have some head trauma, although it's nothing more serious than a mild concussion." He hesitated again as he looked at Charlie. He put on his brightest smile and aimed it directly at the younger man. "All in all, I'd say your brother was very lucky. And he is going to make a complete and full recovery." At this, Charlie finally allowed himself to relax, which made Scottsboro's smile grow even larger. "Shall we discuss his care?"

Alan and Charlie both nodded. "Please," Alan urged him.

"Well, he's stuck here for a while, I'm afraid."

"How long?" Charlie inquired, already knowing that Don wasn't going to like this.

"At least a week and a half, maybe two. It depends on how well he is doing. We need to keep an eye on his spleen because they sometimes will rupture after an injury like this, and I want Don where we can get him help if he needs it. We also need to monitor his kidneys. Although the bruising appears to be mild, all we can really do is watch and wait. And again, if something were to happen, Don will be much better off if he is already in the care of medical personnel."

"Sounds good to me," Alan agreed. "The hard part will be convincing Don."

"Yes," the doctor nodded. "The patients don't ever like to hear that." He leaned back in his chair and tapped his pen against his knee. "The most important part of Don's recovery is simple – bed rest and lots of it. So if you know of anything he likes to do – read, crosswords, anything – please feel free to bring something by. It might help distract him enough to stay in bed."

Alan gave a heavy sigh as Charlie chuckled. "Don doesn't 'do' stationary," Charlie informed him. "But we'll sit on him if we have to."

Scottsboro laughed deeply, thrilled by the younger man's sense of humor. "Excellent. The other part of Don's care will consist of antibiotics to prevent infection, anti-inflammatories and pain relievers. I will warn you now, even with heavy doses of pain medications, Don is going to be hurting a lot, especially for the first few days. I've had a bruised kidney myself, and it was some of the worst pain I have ever felt. Just keep that in mind if Don ever gets cranky or testy. Patience and encouragement, gentlemen – it will work wonders every time."

Alan and Charlie shared a glance and each one gave the other a reassuring smile. It would be tough, but they silently vowed to be as patient as they needed to be, even when Don was in full 'unhappy camper' mode. Nodding, they turned back to the doctor. "Anything else we need to know?" Alan asked.

"That's all from me, gentlemen. Don's nurses will go over his release information and home care when that day comes. For now, I need you to wait outside again until Don is out of recovery. I'll make sure his nurse – Anna – comes to get you when he's ready." The doctor stood and shook hands with the two men again. "Good luck gentlemen. Don't hesitate to call or have the nurses call me if you have any concerns."

"We won't," Charlie assured him as he and Alan exited the office.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

"Don?" He wearily dragged his eyes open at the mention of his name, his face breaking into a tired smile as he saw Charlie standing next to his bedside. "...lie," he tried to call to him but found his throat was still too sore.

"Hold on a second," Charlie told him as he moved to fidget with something on the bedside table, just out of Don's view. He held up a spoon in front of Don and pressed it to his lips. "Ice chips?"

Don parted his lips in response and enjoyed the soothing coolness as it trickled down his throat. Charlie reloaded the spoon and offered Don another helping which he gratefully sucked on.

"More?" Charlie asked.

Don shook his head and licked his lips. "Thanks," he croaked.

"Anytime, bro." Charlie pulled up a chair and took a seat but leaned forward enough to keep a hand on Don's uninjured forearm. "So, how are you feeling?"

"Tired," Don admitted. His brow creased as he took a mental inventory of his body.

"Are you in pain?" Charlie's voice was suddenly filled with concern.

"No. Don't feel much of anything." He licked his lips as he realized they were suddenly dry again and immediately felt the spoon pressing against his lips. _You'd make a great nurse, Charlie,_ Don thought to himself. He accepted the offering and smiled. "Where's Dad?"

"He's stepped out for a moment to call Megan and let her know that you're out of surgery."

"That's good." Don frowned as the last word his brother had spoken finally registered in his tired mind. "Surgery? What for?"

"You don't remember?" Charlie asked in surprise. Don shook his head, wincing as he put pressure on the left side of his head. Charlie placed his hand on Don's cheek. "Easy, Don. You've got a nasty gash on your head."

"No kidding." Don fixed Charlie with an imploring stare. "What happened to me?"

Charlie removed his hand from his brother's cheek and laid it once again on his arm. "What do you remember?"

"Um," Don clenched his eyes shut and tried to sort through the jumble of images in his head. "There was an... accident? Someone hit me?"

"Close. There was an explosion. Some_thing_ hit you – the lab room doors."

"Then... I remember being cold and wet. Were we outside?"

"No," Charlie told him. "We-"

"Donny!" Alan Eppes joyously cried as he entered the room. "You're awake!"

"Hey, Dad," Don smiled. He bit back a protest as Alan placed a hand on his forehead, suspecting his father needed the contact for reassurance.

"How do you feel?"

"Fine," Don said, realizing after the fact that he hadn't given the best of answers.

"Oh 'fine'?" Alan asked dubiously. "Donny, be honest."

"He's not in any pain, Dad." Don was grateful to hear Charlie chime in. "I already asked him."

Alan cast a glance at his younger son before carefully perching on Don's bedside. "You had us worried, you know." He brushed his hand through Don's short, dark hair, smiling as Don closed his eyes and gave a soft sigh of contentment. "You should sleep," he whispered softly.

"But Charlie was-" Don began sleepily.

"Charlie and I will still be here after you've gotten some more rest," Alan informed him. "We'll talk then, I promise."

Don wanted to finish his conversation – to find out what had happened – but he knew his father would have none of it. Besides, that gentle hand running through his hair was so relaxing. He found himself concentrating on the soothing sensation as he slowly drifted back into a peaceful slumber.

--

Charlie sat and watched as his father talked to his brother. He kept his hand on Don's forearm as his brother relaxed at their father's words and touch. Charlie kept statue-still, afraid that any movement on his part might break the spell between father and son. He closed his eyes and listened to his father's voice, reliving the relief he'd felt when they had first seen Don.

_After a lecture about the importance of letting Don rest and a firm recitation of visiting hours, Anna let the two Eppes men into Don's room. She did a quick check of Don's vitals, notated his chart, and left the room, pulling the door shut behind her. _

_Alan approached Don's left side – the injured one – and Charlie stood on Don's right. They both studied him with concerned, yet somewhat relieved expressions. Charlie couldn't ever remember Don looking quite so pale or haggard, even during the ride in the ambulance. He knew the bleeding had been repaired and that his brother had probably been given a transfusion, and it terrified him to think of what Don must have looked like on his way to surgery. That was an image he was happy not to add to the others that already lurked in his mind. He noticed that Don wasn't receiving any extra oxygen and took that as a good sign. His eyes drifted downward to Don's chest where he saw his brother's dislocated left arm bound tightly against his body. He knew it had to hurt – Don had dislocated it before when he was playing baseball in high school and his scream of pain was something that Charlie had never forgotten._

_Charlie's gaze drifted lower but the covers were pulled up so that they just covered Don's abdomen. Even with the sheet and gown blocking his view, he knew good and well what his brother looked like down there, and really didn't care to see the angry bruising again. He trailed his gaze back up to Don's face and then on to study the monitor above the bed, pleased to see his brother's heart beating at a consistent, regular rhythm. Maybe, just maybe, Charlie could get rid of the feelings of anxiety and despair that had plagued him since the accident what – mere hours ago?_

_Charlie glanced up and saw an expression of sorrow on his father's face. "He's going to be fine, Dad."_

_Alan looked up and nodded, not quite making eye contact with his youngest son. "Of course he is," he stated matter-of-factly. "It's just that... well..." Alan trailed off as he lightly traced the edge on the bandage on Don's head. He cleared his throat before suddenly turning to leave. "I need to call Megan and give her an update. I'll be right back."_

"He's asleep," Alan's soft words drew Charlie back to the present.

"Good."

"Just what were you doing carrying on such an intense conversation with him?" The question was whispered but there was stern quality to it that revealed Alan's irritation.

"He was asking," Charlie quietly defended himself. "You know how he is about needing to be in control. Part of that includes discovering every last bit of information he can get his hands on."

"I know, Charlie," Alan gently admonished. "But the nurse said he needed to rest. We can talk later."

"I know," Charlie sighed. "Although you and mom are the only two people I've ever known that could have him out like a light in no time."

Charlie saw a flicker of sadness cross his father's face before being replaced with a grin and a wink. "It's a parental thing." Alan looked lovingly at his oldest son before allowing a frustrated sigh to slip out.

"What?" Charlie quietly queried.

"He's going to be handful when he's up and about – even before then he's going to be difficult." Alan gave his youngest son a conspiratorial grin. "I may have to let you in on that parental secret." Charlie stifled a loud laugh. "But you must promise to use the knowledge for good, not evil."

He grinned mischievously at Alan. "Of course, dear father." His heart lifted as Alan quietly laughed with him, all traces of the lingering sorrow finally banished from his face. They fell back into a peaceful silence, content to listen to Don's soft breathing and the reassuring beep of the heart monitor.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

When Don woke again he was greeted by two rather angry voices arguing back and forth. He decided to keep his eyes closed and pretend to be asleep until he figured out what exactly was going on.

"Visiting hours are over, Mr. Eppes," a woman's voice firmly stated.

"It's Professor Eppes," Don heard Charlie respond. "And I don't care about visiting hours. I promised my brother that I would be here when he woke up."

"_Professor_ Eppes," the woman replied in frustration. "We have visiting hours in place for a reason. Our patients need to get plenty of rest so that they can recover, and having people in here talking and visiting doesn't help with that."

"He _has_ been sleeping – all afternoon. He was only awake for about ten minutes and that was not too long after my father and I came to see him. He's been sleeping ever since. What harm could it possibly do for me to quietly sit here a little while longer until he wakes up?"

Don couldn't help but grin at his brother's logic. Truth be told, he was extremely relieved that Charlie was still here. He'd woken up alone in a hospital room before back when he worked in Albuquerque and it had been one of the loneliest moments of his life. He decided to voice his opinion about Charlie's presence.

"Hospital policy is very strict-"

"Hey," Don croaked as he opened his eyes. His grin widened at the 'I told you so' look that his brother flashed the nurse. "Good to see you, Charlie."

Charlie eyed the nurse who reluctantly growled, "Ten more minutes, but not a second more." She exited the room in a semi-huff and a triumphant Charlie approached Don's bedside.

"Tough nurse," Charlie snorted as he took a seat next to Don's bed.

"Hope she's not in charge of sponge baths."

Charlie laughed loudly at his brother's joke. "Wouldn't that be a treat?" He saw Don licking his lips. "You thirsty?" Don nodded and watched as Charlie poured him a glass of water from a pitcher on the bedside table. He stuck a straw in it, bending it at a sharp angle before holding it up to Don's mouth. "Go slow, okay?"

Don took his advice, sipping small amounts and savoring the cool, crisp liquid. When he was satisfied, he raised his right arm to signal that he was through, wincing as the movement tugged on his IV. He glanced around and noticed his father's absence. "Dad?"

"He went home," Charlie informed him. "I think he wanted to get a head start on rounding up some things to keep you entertained while you're here."

"Great," Don groaned. "How long will that be?"

Charlie let out a small chuckle before growing serious. "Don, you've just had major surgery. You're stuck here for a while." Don's face fell and Charlie sympathetically patted his arm. "Is there anything special you want? I'd be happy to bring it to you."

"I want to get out of here," Don sighed in frustration. He forced a smile on his face as he looked at Charlie and changed the subject. "How about you finish telling me what happened?"

Charlie glanced at his watch and frowned. "I don't have enough time before that delightful nurse comes to kick me out." He didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the miserable look that appeared on Don's face. "Tell you what, I'll be back as soon as visiting hours start tomorrow, and I'll tell you all about it then."

That wasn't the answer that Don wanted, but he knew that Charlie was trying to cheer him up. "Thanks, Charlie."

"Anytime." Charlie gripped Don's good hand in his and lightly squeezed it, careful to avoid the IV. "Good night," he whispered as he released Don's hand. He was about to start toward the door when he suddenly paused and turned around. "Don, I..."

"What?" Don asked, puzzled by Charlie's hesitance.

"I just wanted to... I wanted to say..." Charlie met Don's eyes and saw the encouragement and support within the dark orbs. "I love you."

Don's face lit up in a huge smile. "I love you too, Buddy." Attempting to lighten the unusually intense emotional moment, Don ordered, "Now, get out of here and get some rest because I expect to see you bright and early tomorrow morning."

"Yes sir," Charlie spoke as he gave Don a playful salute.

Don watched his brother leave and let out a depressed sigh. He hated hospitals. Absolutely, positively, without a doubt hated hospitals. It pained him to admit to himself that he actually needed to be in one right now, but he didn't think he could even sit up in bed, much less care for himself. He closed his eyes and attempted to relax, but the incessant beeping of his heart monitor kept him on edge.

"Mr. Eppes?"

_I thought I was supposed to be getting rest,_ he growled silently. He opened his eyes and recognized the strict nurse from earlier standing by his bed. "Uh-huh?"

"I need to change your bandages," she told him as she gently moved the sheet down to his thighs and lifted his gown up to just above the bottom of his ribcage. Don felt her removing the bandage on his upper left abdomen. He couldn't see what she was doing, and his curiosity got the better of him. He carefully tried to lift his head but fell back onto his pillow with a gasp of pain as his stomach and shoulder protested the movement. "Mr. Eppes," the nurse gently scolded him. "You mustn't move around like that. You'll aggravate your injuries."

_No, really?_ Don bit back his retort as he focused on taking deep breaths. He was vaguely aware of a hand on his shoulder and a soothing whisper in his ear. He smiled his thanks at the nurse – he couldn't remember her name – as the pain began to ease off. "Thanks," he finally managed to whisper.

"No problem. Are you still in pain?"

"Not as long as I just lie here – which is all I plan to do for quite a while."

"Oh, I doubt that," she chuckled in amusement as she returned her attention to changing his bandage. "I know you're itching to get out of here."

"Am I that obvious?" Don was content to watch her face, noticing how her smile shone through the stern exterior to reveal a very attractive woman.

"Yes, you are." Done with changing the bandage, she pulled his gown back down and the sheet back up, taking extra care to gently smooth it across his body. She lightly gripped the fingers of his left hand and pressed firmly on the nail beds of each one, noting how long it took for the color to return.

"I get a free manicure?" he joked.

"Just making sure the binding on your arm isn't too tight." She moved her soft hands to his head, placing them on his cheeks and gently turning his head to the side. From his new position Don could read her name tag – Sarah. She carefully removed the bandage and replaced it with a fresh one.

Don closed his eyes as she worked. She was so gentle and compassionate in the way she was caring for him that he didn't feel so alone anymore. He found himself relaxing and was soon stifling a yawn.

"All done," she quietly whispered close to his ear so as not to disturb him.

"…'kay," he murmured as he slid into a deep sleep.

--

"Dad?" Charlie called out as he entered his house.

"In the dining room," his father answered him.

Charlie tossed his keys on the table by the front door and joined his father in the other room. He started laughing as he saw a foot tall stack of magazines on the table. "Are all of those for Don?"

Alan regarded Charlie over the top of his newspaper. "They're for all of us, actually. Don's going to need something to read to keep him distracted and I figured it wouldn't hurt for us to have something to read while he sleeps." Alan set his paper on the table and studied Charlie. "You _do_ plan on sitting with him the next few days."

Charlie was shocked at the slightly accusatory tone of his father's voice. "Of course I do," he bristled. "Larry and Amita are going to take over my classes for me." He studied his father, looking for any sign of what might have set off his anger. Upon closer observation, Charlie noticed that Alan seemed more sad than angry. "Dad," he gently began. "What's wrong?"

"You mean _other_ than the fact that one of my sons was in an explosion and is still in the hospital recovering?"

"Dad," Charlie warned. "I'm serious. You've been a little... 'off' since this happened." Charlie took a deep breath and prayed for strength. "It almost seems that you've been avoiding Don since he's been in the hospital."

"You want to talk to me about avoiding people in hospitals?" Alan asked sarcastically.

"Yes, I do," Charlie replied testily. "I have been there for Don – both times he's woken up. And I've had to tell him where you were – both times he's woken up." He watched as Alan looked guiltily down at the dining table. Charlie sighed and softened his tone, leaning across the table to place his hand over Alan's. "Please, Dad – you can talk to me."

Alan looked up to meet his son's gaze, and Charlie was shocked at the sadness in his father's eyes. "It's not supposed to happen like this," Alan spoke softly.

"What's not supposed to happen?"

"Don isn't supposed to get hurt like this." Alan withdrew his hand from Charlie's and began fidgeting with the newspaper. "Not like this," he repeated morosely.

Charlie was still baffled. "Like what?"

Alan rubbed his forehead as he spoke, the gesture reminding Charlie of Don's similar habit. "In an accident." Alan wearily dropped his hands to rest on the tabletop. "I mean, I've spent years trying to prepare myself for the possibility that your brother could be injured on the job. I haven't really accepted it, but I've tried. But this... this accident..." He fixed Charlie with an imploring look. "This could have happened to anyone, so why – with all the other dangers he faces – did it have to happen to Don?"

Charlie, despite all of his intellectual gifts, found that he had no answer to give his father. In a moment of helplessness he seized his father's hand in a fierce grip. "I don't know why," he sadly admitted. "But I know that we have to be there for him – both of us." He paused for a moment, finally continuing in the softest of whispers. "This isn't like Mom. Don isn't dying, he's just a little banged up. You have to keep that in mind."

"I know," Alan told him. "But when I see him lying there so tired and pale... he's always looked so much like your mother to begin with, and seeing him like that just reminds me..."

Charlie rose from his seat and hugged his father. "I know," he whispered. "Me too." He and his father held onto each other until both of their hearts began to feel a little less burdened. Charlie released the embrace and started thumbing through the stacks of magazines. Sports Illustrated, Sports Illustrated: Special Baseball Edition, Backyard Hobbyist... "Wait," Charlie snorted. "Backyard Hobbyist? Don doesn't even have a backyard."

"I did say they were for us too."

"Ah yes," Charlie continued laughing as he held up three Sudoku books. "That would explain these."

Alan removed his reading glasses to be able to better glare at his youngest son. "What can I say? Your brother is very hard to shop for. He doesn't have many hobbies that don't involve fast paced, neck-breaking, dangerous action." Seeing Charlie's smug expression, Alan reached into a shopping bag that was resting on the floor. "I did get him this, though."

Charlie nervously gulped. "He can be awfully hard to shop for," he quickly agreed. "In fact, I'll go see what I can think of for him."

Alan couldn't hold back a fit of laughter as his son ran in terror from the travel-sized Scrabble game he held in his hand.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

The next morning found a grumpy Don lying flat on his back in bed and glaring at the tray next to him. He was still tired, bored, and a little hungry, but not for the vanilla nutritional supplement sitting on the tray. Don had tried a sip earlier at the nurse's insistence and promptly informed her that it tasted nothing like vanilla. She'd given him a patient smile, set it within reach on the tray, and told him she would be back for the _empty_ container around lunchtime.

"Donny!" Alan called out as he and Charlie entered the room. "You're awake."

"Unfortunately," Don groused. He noticed that each of the two men was carrying a large paper grocery bag. "What's all that?"

"Stuff to keep you entertained," Alan smiled as he set his bag down by the small sofa in the room.

Don's eyes widened in shock. "How long am I going to be here?"

"At least a week," Charlie told him as he set his bag next to his father's. "Maybe more, depending on how you're doing."

"No way am I staying here longer than a week," Don informed them in no uncertain terms. "Not a chance in hell."

Alan took the seat by the bed and fixed his son with a no nonsense look. "Don Eppes, you will stay here however long the doctor deems appropriate. Do I make myself clear?"

"You can't tell me what to do," Don petulantly mumbled, though the argument was somewhat weakened by his supine position. Seeing his father's determined expression, Don opted to change the subject. "So, I don't suppose you have any food in those bags?"

"Can you even eat real food yet?" Charlie asked as he picked up the supplement and sniffed it, wrinkling his nose at the smell. "I guess not," he laughed.

Don shot him a glare. "You're hilarious, you know that, Chuck?"

Charlie smiled his best annoying little brother smile as he set the drink back down. "I try." He pulled up another chair and sat next to Alan, switching back into serious mode. "You look a lot better today."

"I feel better," Don assured them. "A little tired still, but much better overall."

"How's the pain?" Alan asked with concern.

"Not bad." He slightly raised his right hand to indicate his IV. "They've got me on the good stuff. But I suspect that I would be in some serious pain if I tried to move anytime soon."

"Well then, you just lie there," Alan emphasized. "Rest and sleep can be good things, Don."

"I know," he sighed. His face brightened as he added, "Sarah said that they're going to let me try sitting up in bed tonight."

Alan's face darkened with worry. "Are you sure that's a good idea? Isn't it too soon?"

"Dad," Don groaned. "I didn't bring it up, she did. They wouldn't let me try it if I wasn't ready."

"That's great!" Charlie cut in, trying to stop Alan from belaboring the issue. "And you'll even have stuff to read."

"What did you bring?"

"A little bit of everything," Charlie laughed. "I think the SI and SI: Special Baseball Edition will be your picks. Although there are quite a few Sudoku books as well."

"The number puzzle thing?" Don frowned. "Pass – those are all for you and Dad."

"It's not math, Don," Charlie spoke in his 'teaching' voice. "It's logic, and you have a very logical mind. I can show you how to do them."

"That's okay, Buddy," Don grinned. "I think I'll vote for Scrabble."

Charlie whipped his head to the side to see Alan brandishing the travel game in his direction. He rolled his eyes and buried his face in his hands. "Why me?" he groaned.

"Relax, Charlie. It'll be a while before I can sit up long enough for a game." Don tried to stifle a yawn and inwardly sighed as Alan saw it and opened his mouth to speak. "I know, I know," Don stopped him. "Rest is good for me. Yadda, yadda." He closed his eyes and yawned again. "Hey, Charlie."

"Yeah, bro?"

"Can you turn on the TV? The background noise helps mask all of these other sounds."

"Sure." Charlie stood and fiddled with the TV. He could get a good, clear picture, but the volume wasn't cooperating. "Sorry, Don, it's not working."

"Damn," Don swore softly, never opening his eyes. "Really helps too."

"I can read to you," Charlie suggested. "Would that work?"

Don opened his eyes and regarded Charlie with an enormous smile of gratitude plastered on his face. "If you don't mind."

"Not at all," Charlie promised. He rummaged through the bags until he came to the SI. He sat back down and noticed the loving expression his father was giving him as he started to read the first article. Within minutes Don was fast asleep.

--

"That wasn't too bad," Charlie whispered to his father. "I was expecting more of a fuss."

"Don't worry," Alan whispered back. "That'll start soon enough." He clasped Charlie's arm. "That was very sweet of you to read to your brother."

Charlie reddened at the compliment and looked at his lap. "Have to try to keep him happy, right?" He half-way jokingly added, "It's the only way we'll get any peace."

Alan chuckled and nodded. "You've got that right." He pulled one of the Sudoku books from the bag. "Want to join me?"

"No thanks. I'm going to stretch my legs and check in with Larry." He rose and looked at his father, flashing back to their conversation from last night. "Are you going to be okay here by yourself?"

Alan was touched by the concern in his youngest son's voice. "Yes, I will. Go on, Charlie."

"Okay. I'll be back in a little while. I've got my cell if you need me."

Charlie left the hospital room and made his way outside the building, taking a deep breath and savoring the fresh air of the green courtyard. He walked along the sidewalk and let his mind wander. Inevitably his thoughts returned to Don and he consciously pushed them aside. Charlie had been there for his brother, supported him, and knew he was going to make a full recovery – it was okay to allow himself to think about other things now.

Charlie began mentally mapping out his next lecture of his Mathematics for Non-mathematicians class. He had an idea of the topic he wanted to discuss and made a mental note to run it past his father, who regularly attended each one of those lectures. As he was finishing up the outline for the lecture, Charlie reached the end of the sidewalk and took a seat on a bench overlooking a small pond. Making sure that there was no one nearby that he might disturb, he pulled out his phone and called Larry.

"Hello," Larry answered, sounding uncharacteristically weary and the slightest bit frustrated.

"Hey, Larry," Charlie greeted. "Bad time?"

"No, just reading through some notes from the chemistry department. How is Don?"

"He's doing better," Charlie told him. "Chemistry department? So you're still working on the investigation into the explosion?"

"Unfortunately so. Based on the lab sign in sheets we have reviewed, we do have an idea of what might have caused it." He waited for Larry to continue, sighing when he remained silent.

"And?" Charlie prompted his unusually reticent friend.

"I can't tell you anything... _officially_."

"I understand, Larry." Charlie said. "But I would appreciate _anything_ you can tell me."

"It appears that an undergraduate chemistry student was making up a lab assignment that she missed due to illness. She was to perform the Grignard reaction as laid out in her organic lab manual, but it seems she did not read the precaution section first."

"Grignard?" Charlie questioned. "It's been a long time since I was in organic chemistry class."

"It's a reaction used to reduce an aldehyde or a ketone to an alcohol – but those details aren't important as it pertains to the explosion. Our concern lies in the fact that this student went for a smoke break and left her reagents on the counter, namely a beaker of lithium aluminum hydride, which is extremely reactive to water."

"Reactive as in explosive," Charlie mumbled to himself.

"Precisely," Larry agreed. "LAH reacts to small amounts of atmospheric water, such as rain or even low level humidity. From reading the report issued by the fire department, we have learned that the lab room window was open at the time of the blast."

"So that's what caused it?" Charlie asked incredulously. "A student's careless lab experiment?"

"In part," Larry said, hesitating as if the worst was yet to come.

"Go on," Charlie demanded.

"LAH is very reactive to water, but unless it is present in extremely large quantities, it could never be responsible for a blast capable of blowing the doors off the lab." Charlie heard him take a deep breath. "There was an aggravating factor that we are still looking into, but it appears that there was a significant presence of ether fumes in the room."

"I know that's very explosive," Charlie thought aloud. "But why would it be in the room? Didn't the student keep it in the fume hood?"

"Yes, she did." Larry sighed. "Again, this is still under investigation and only speculation on my part, but I believe the fume hood was malfunctioning – basically, it had a leak. That's how the ether filled the room, and why the reaction between the LAH and water was so powerful."

Charlie slouched on the bench and stared up at the bright, blue sky. "So not only was this an accident," Charlie whispered disbelievingly, "But it was a freak accident."

"All the right variables came together at the worst possible time," Larry stated. "We will be continuing our investigation, of course, but I don't believe that we will arrive at a different conclusion." Larry waited for Charlie to respond and when he didn't, Larry added, "I'm so sorry, Charles."

Charlie nodded mutely before realizing Larry couldn't see him. "Thanks, Larry. For working on the investigation and letting me know." Charlie wearily rose from the bench and turned back to the hospital. "I've got to get back to Don and Dad. I'll tell Don you asked about him."

"Call me if you need anything."

"Thanks, I will." Charlie disconnected and maintained a leisurely pace as he tried to decide exactly how and if he should tell his father what he had just learned.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

Don was sitting up – well, the head of the bed was slightly elevated – when Charlie got back to the room. Don grinned at his younger brother and weakly gestured with his right hand. "Check it out."

"Impressive," Charlie said in awe.

Don looked at his father. "See? Charlie thinks it's good. Quit worrying, Dad."

"I'm your father and as such I have a right to worry."

Don rolled his eyes and looked back at Charlie. "So, you were going to finish telling me what happened."

"Oh, right," Charlie remembered. He sat on the sofa and propped his elbows on his knees. "Where were we?"

"I remember being wet," Don reminded him.

"That's right. We weren't outside – we were inside in a shower. Since the blast happened in the chemistry building we wanted to make sure we rinsed off any chemicals that you might have been exposed to."

"What about you?" Don asked, the concern in his voice matching the concern in Alan's eyes.

"Turns out the chemical involved isn't toxic so there's no exposure to worry about, but I wound up getting thoroughly rinsed as well from taking care of you. Then the paramedics came and I rode to the hospital with you."

"I do remember that," Don whispered. "I remember you being there... holding my hand?"

"Until the ER nurse made me let go," Charlie confirmed. "That was one of the hardest things I ever had to do. I was afraid that..." He swallowed past the lump in his throat before speaking again. "Anyway, you know the rest."

"What about my injuries?" Don inquired. "I'm pretty sure the doctor or nurse told me at some point, but I've been a little fuzzy the past twenty-four hours."

"Torn spleen which they operated on and repaired, bruised kidneys and liver, dislocated shoulder, and a mild concussion," Alan called out the list by memory. "As bad as it sounds, you actually got off pretty lucky for someone in an explosion."

"I don't feel lucky," Don joked, wincing as it fell flat.

They were interrupted as Anna, the current on-duty nurse, entered the room. She smiled at the two visitors before stopping at Don's bedside. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay," he answered. Truth be told his stomach was starting to lightly throb, but he didn't want to say anything that would make her lay the bed flat again – he was enjoying not feeling like an invalid at the moment.

"Well, let us know if you start to feel any pain, Mr. Eppes. We can get you some pain meds and lay you back down. I don't want to put too much strain on your injuries."

"I promise I'll let you know," he lied. Don glared at his father as he snorted doubtfully.

"Okay, Mr. Eppes, your vitals look pretty good. I'm going to see about some broth and jell-o for lunch. How's that sound?"

Don raised an eyebrow. "Do your patients _ever_ say that sounds good?"

Anna chuckled. "Okay, you've got me there. Let's try it anyway and, if all goes well, maybe we can try something approaching the status of 'real' food for dinner."

"Deal," Don agreed.

Anna left the men alone and reappeared in a few minutes with a tray of broth and jell-o as promised. She set the food on the bedside table and studied Don. "Alright Mr. Eppes, I think you're going to need some help with your lunch."

Don gave her a puzzled look and followed her gaze first to his bound left arm and then to his right hand which was still encumbered by an IV. "Oh," he mumbled as realization hit.

"So, me, your father, or your brother – who's it going to be?"

Don pouted as he weighed each possibility. He didn't like the thought of the nurse feeding him, but he also knew he'd feel uncomfortable with either family member. It might be worse with Charlie given that he would feel awkward about feeding his big brother, and at least his father had fed him before, even if it was a long time ago... "Dad," Don reluctantly decided. "Do you mind?"

"Of course not, Donny." Alan took a seat next to the head of the bed and smiled at Anna. "We've got it from here, thank you."

"I'll be back later to get the tray and lower the bed back down."

"But-" Don began.

"You have to take this slowly, Mr. Eppes," Anna gently reminded him. "If you overdo it, you'll just be making yourself miserable plus setting back your recovery, and we don't want that." Anna patted Alan on the shoulder, her silent way of sympathizing with the stubborn streak he must have put up with throughout Don's childhood. "Good luck," she winked at Alan as she left the room.

Alan nodded as he removed the lid on the broth and tucked a napkin under Don's chin. He pretended not to see the embarrassed flush that rose in Don's cheeks as he scooped a spoonful of broth and slipped it into Don's mouth. Alan did watch as his son's face brightened for a moment, no doubt because he was happy to be working his way up to real food. Alan fed his son another spoonful and heard Charlie moving behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and asked, "Everything okay, Charlie?"

"What?" he asked, surprised that his movements had been noticed. "Oh yeah. I was just thinking that I needed to run by my office and touch base with Larry and Amita about my classes. I figured I could come back after that and you could go meet with Stan."

"You two don't have to hold my hand," Don grumbled, swallowing a mouthful of broth. "I'm a big boy."

Alan gave him a stern look. "I think it is a good idea if you have company for the next couple of days." As Don started to protest, Alan cut him off. "Donny, you don't really have the use of either arm. I would think you would appreciate our help."

"I do," Don sighed. Truth be told, he didn't want to be a burden to his family, but it dawned on him that they probably didn't see him as such and that he would never win the argument anyway. "That's sounds like a good idea, Charlie."

"All right then," Charlie answered as he headed for the door. "I'll be back in a little while."

Don watched him leave and fixed his father with a look. "Do you think I'm making him uncomfortable?"

"No," Alan assured him. "You know how your brother is though – he can't stop thinking about his work."

Feeling his concern lessen at his father's words, Don opened his mouth and accepted another spoonful of broth.

--

Charlie entered Larry's office without knocking, finding the older professor with his head on his desk. "Larry?"

"Charles," he said in surprise as he lifted his head from the desk. "I thought you would be with Don."

"I needed a break from the hospital," Charlie quietly mumbled. There was more to it, of course, but he didn't want to add to Larry's already full plate. "I drew up a few outlines for my classes and thought I'd drop them off."

"Are you certain that there is nothing else you'd like to talk about?" Larry prodded.

"No, not right now. You've got the investigation, your classes, _my_ classes – I'll be fine, I promise."

"If you say so, Charles, but you know where to find me."

"I know," Charlie grinned as he handed Larry the disk with his notes on it. "Thanks. I've got to head back to see Don now. I'll call you later."

Charlie left Larry's office and returned to Alan's car. He'd gotten his license back a few weeks ago and, despite a big show of protest, Alan had grown rather comfortable with letting Charlie drive his car. As he slid behind the wheel and started the engine, Charlie took a moment to organize his thoughts. Despite his reassuring words to Alan, he was actually reminded all too well of his mother's time in the hospital. Charlie hadn't visited much, but the few times he had were burned into his memory. He associated everything related to the hospital – the sights, scents, and sounds – with the saddest period of his life. And here he was, reliving those same sensations while watching Don lying helplessly in bed, being spoon fed by his father.

Charlie took a deep breath and cleared his mind. It was his turn to sit with Don while his father, whether he admitted he needed it or not, got _his_ break from the awful memories of the hospital.

An hour later Charlie entered Don's room to find his big brother lying flat in bed, fast asleep. He moved to stand next to his brother, frowning as he noticed the deep lines creasing Don's brow. He looked at Alan who was reading a magazine on the couch. "Dad," he called quietly.

"I know," Alan answered just as softly. "The nurse gave him something for the pain a few minutes ago. It should be taking effect soon." Alan paused as if he was debating what to say next. "Don actually admitted – without any prompting from me or Anna – that he was in pain."

Those words sent a chill down Charlie's spine. "He did? That can't be good."

"No," Alan agreed. "Although I'm proud Don didn't try to hide it from everyone. That's got to count for something, right?"

"I hope so," Charlie said as he took a seat next to Alan. "I can handle it from here, Dad. You should go meet with Stan." He saw the hesitant look in his father's eyes. "I know it's an important business meeting – you've been talking about it for weeks. Go. I can take care of things here and I promise to call you if anything happens."

Alan was about to say no, when he decided that a break would be good for him. "Okay," he said as he rose from the sofa. "I'll be back as soon as it's over."

Charlie flashed him a grin. "Take your time. I know you probably need a break. God knows I did."

Alan bent over and hugged his youngest son. "Thank you for understanding, Charlie. You have no idea how much that helps." He released Charlie and smoothed a hand through Don's hair before silently slipping out of the room.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

Don felt like he'd been running a marathon. His heart was beating wildly in his chest as he panted for air. His stomach was aching, not like the stitch you got from running all out for a long time, but a deeper, throbbing ache. Don clamped his hand over his stomach thinking that the pressure might stop the pain, but quickly realized that was a mistake. He moaned aloud as the agony intensified.

"Don?"

He heard someone calling his name, his weary brain finally recognizing Charlie's voice. His brother was calling to him again, this time with a hint of panic in his speech. Don was too tired to try to figure out what Charlie was so upset about and was planning on ignoring him, until he felt a cool hand on his forehead. Don dragged his eyes open and tried to focus on the younger man's face. "What?" he asked weakly.

"Don, I'm going to call the nurse."

_Why does everyone always have to fuss over me?_ Don wondered to himself. He hated that. Don decided to stop Charlie from disturbing the nurse. "'m fine." _Oh crap, maybe I'm not,_ Don suddenly realized as it felt like someone swung a lead pipe into his stomach. He was going to tell Charlie that he had better call for help after all, but before he could speak, the pain sent him plummeting into darkness.

--

Charlie was reading over his lecture notes when a moan from the bed drew his attention. He set his laptop aside and rose from the couch, crossing the room to Don's bed. His brother's eyes were clenched shut, his face was pale and sweaty and lined with pain. He reached out and laid a gentle hand on Don's forehead, his concern skyrocketing at the heat radiating from Don's body. "Don?" he called. "Don!"

His brother's eyes opened and Charlie was shocked at the glazed look in them. "What?" Don quietly croaked.

"Don, I'm going to call the nurse," Charlie said, even as he was reaching for the call button.

"'m fine," Don protested although it was obvious he was barely aware of his surroundings.

Charlie was going to argue when a loud alarm sounded from Don's monitor. He looked up and saw that Don's heart rate had increased while his blood pressure was decreasing rapidly. Before Charlie could press the call button, three on duty nurses were rushing into the room and shoving him to one side. He stood out of their way and tried to keep an eye on his brother through the flurry of activity swirling around the bed. One of them stepped outside the room and returned with the resident on duty. He leaned over Don and did something that elicited a strangled cry from his patient. Charlie bit back his own anguished response as the resident barked out orders to take Don to surgery.

"Don," he whispered helplessly, his heart stopping as his brother was rushed from the room, bed and all.

One of the women glanced over her shoulder. "We'll let you know." She left him with those words as she rushed to catch up with her patient.

_Surgery? I'd better call Dad again._ Charlie picked up the phone on the table next to where the bed used to be and dialed Alan's phone. "Dad, I think you'd better cut your meeting with Stan short and come back to the hospital."

"What's wrong?" Alan asked, his voice full of fear.

"They've taken him to surgery again," Charlie told him. "Just come back soon, Dad."

"I'll be there as fast as I can."

Charlie hung up and collapsed on the couch. _What could have gone wrong?_ he wondered. Don had seemed to be doing so well. Maybe his father had been right about Don sitting up in bed, maybe it had been too early. But surely the hospital staff wouldn't have let him do it if they thought he wasn't ready. _And fume hoods aren't supposed to leak,_ he thought bitterly. If he believed in it, he would be seriously concerned with the run of bad luck that Don was having.

He picked up the SI next to him, unconsciously flipping to the article he had read to Don just that afternoon. Charlie's eyes skimmed over the article, an in depth discussion over the pros and cons of the designated hitter. Tossing the magazine aside, he tangled his hands in his curls and sighed in frustration. _Please let him be all right,_ he silently prayed.

"Charlie!" Alan called as he entered the room, stopping short at his son's missing bed. "Oh God..."

Charlie saw the panic in Alan's eyes and realized what he must be thinking. "No, Dad, he's not..." He couldn't bring himself to say the word. "They rushed him out of here, bed and all. I'm still waiting on them to bring him back."

"Then he's going to be okay?"

"He has to be," Charlie stated with a conviction he didn't quite feel.

Alan wearily sank beside his youngest son on the couch, holding his head in his hands. "I never should have left," he whispered regretfully. "I knew better."

"How could you? He was fine when you left."

"Because I'm his father," Alan argued as he met Charlie's gaze. "A father should always know when something's wrong with his son. Always."

Not knowing how to respond to that Charlie reached out and squeezed the older man's shoulder. "It's not your fault," he told Alan. Charlie waited for Alan to agree with him, or at least acknowledge what he'd just said, but his father remained silent. Charlie sighed as the emotions of the past forty-eight hours – was that really all it had been? - caught up with him. "If anyone is to blame, it's me. Don was at the chemistry building because I asked him to come."

Alan's breathing hitched. "That's another thing," he softly whispered.

"What?"

"You were there. It could have happened to you..." Alan stood and started pacing. "Like I told you before, I've come to accept – well… be prepared – that something might happen to your brother, but _you_... You're a professor. And even though I know you consult on Don's cases, your job is supposed to be safe. I shouldn't have to worry about both of you and in light of this accident that theory's gone right out the window." Alan's pacing grew faster, more restless.

Charlie sat in silence as he digested what his father had just told him. Charlie had never really thought about it like that, and now his own mortality hit home. _I could have been injured too or even killed. No wonder Dad has been a little off._ Charlie stood and closed the distance between Alan and himself, flinging his arms around his father. "Oh God, Dad," Charlie whispered as he clung to him. "I didn't even think about that."

Alan gently rocked his son, relishing the feel of him alive and uninjured in his embrace, while simultaneously despairing over Don's absence from the moment. "You know," he whispered in an attempt to lighten the moment. "I don't think I'm ever going to take my eyes off of either one of you two again."

Charlie pulled away and smiled at Alan, realizing he had only been half-joking in his statement. "Don's going to love it when he hears that."

Alan opened his mouth to respond but halted as Doctor Scottsboro entered the room. "Gentlemen," he greeted with a huge smile on his face.

"He's okay then," Alan said, interpreting the other man's expression.

"Yes, he is. Gave us a bit of a scare, but he pulled through nicely."

"What happened?" Alan demanded as anger began to color his voice.

"His spleen ruptured," Scottsboro explained. "Sometimes that happens-"

"When you let him put too much strain on his body!" Alan interrupted. "He never should have been sitting up in bed so soon."

"Mr. Eppes, I understand you're upset, but please hear me out." He waited until the older man nodded to continue. "A few years ago when an adult suffered injury to his spleen, the only treatment was to perform a splenectomy. We didn't have the diagnostic tools available to determine how severe the injury was and it was thought that the spleen healed poorly and wasn't a vital organ. As the medical field progressed, we began to realize that the spleen is important, especially in fighting off infections, and that it has remarkable healing power. That knowledge, combined with better ways to diagnose the degree of splenetic trauma, led us to consider repairing instead of removing the spleen, whenever it is feasible." Alan remained silent as he listened, his anger starting to dissipate as Scottsboro continued. "However, in a small number of cases, for reasons that are still unknown, an adult's spleen will sometimes spontaneously rupture after repair. We are aware of this risk – which is why we keep the patient for prolonged observation – but the benefit of a repaired versus removed spleen is great enough to supersede the risk of complication."

The two Eppes men mulled over the doctor's words. Charlie finally broke the silence. "So you removed his spleen this time?"

"Yes."

"What kind of impact will that have on Don?" Alan asked worriedly. "Will he be okay?"

"Don will be fine," Scottsboro assured them. "Adults can and do live normal, healthy lives after having a splenectomy. He'll be off work for about four weeks and then light duty for another four, but he will be able to return to being a field agent without any problems." He saw the relived looks on the Eppes' faces and gently smiled. "I know you'll want to learn more about this so I'll have a nurse bring you some pamphlets that go into more detail and provide you with a list of other resources."

"Thank you for everything you've done for my son," Alan said as he shook his hand.

"Anytime. Although I hope I don't see Don in the operating room ever again." The three men quietly chuckled. "Don is in recovery right now, but they'll bring him back in here as soon as he's ready. It shouldn't be too much longer."

Alan and Charlie sat on the couch as the doctor left, each man quietly contemplating the good news. Before too long an orderly and a nurse wheeled Don into the room. The two men rose and hovered just out of the way as the orderly locked the brake on the bed and the nurse hooked Don up to various essential pieces of equipment. She finished and gestured that they could approach.

"He was feeling a little sick, which is normal after a procedure like this, so we gave him some medicine to soothe his stomach," she quietly informed them. "He'll be a little groggy for the next few hours, which is also normal. He was in some pain so we gave him a strong pain killer which should have taken effect by now. If he wakes up and he is still in pain, ring Anna and she'll see what else we can do. Do you have any questions for me?" The two men shook their heads so she waved good-bye and slipped from the room.

Charlie studied his brother as he stood over him, noting that he was still pale, but the pain lines from earlier were no longer present. He wasn't sweating and his breathing was back to normal, no doubt aided by the cannula in his nostrils. Charlie found himself reaching out and placing the back of his hand on his brother's cheek, and was startled as Don weakly turned his head to press against it, his brow furrowing as he moved. "Shh," Charlie crooned as he turned his hand over to cup Don's cheek. "It's okay, bro. Dad and I are here."

"That's right, Donny," Alan spoke up as he held his son's hand, lightly running his thumb across Don's knuckles. "You're all right now. Just rest." Don mumbled unintelligibly as his eyelids fluttered and his right hand twitched in Alan's grasp. "You always were stubborn," Alan chuckled. "Well, go ahead and wake up, then."

Charlie couldn't help but grin as Don obeyed their father's command by opening his eyes and blinking sleepily at him. "Hey, Don," he whispered. Don's lips moved as if to respond, but no sound came out. "Dad's over there." Charlie gently nudged Don's cheek toward Alan.

Don slowly slid his gaze to the right and Alan saw the recognition in his son's brown eyes. "See? We're both right here, Donny." He reached up and threaded his fingers through Don's hair. "It's okay. Go back to sleep and we'll be here when you wake up."

Don stubbornly fought to keep his eyes open but the medicine in his system won out and he fell asleep. Alan maintained his ministrations while Charlie kept his hand pressed to his cheek. Neither one of them was letting go anytime soon.

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

Don lay in bed with his eyes closed as he tried to clear up a few things in his mind. He remembered feeling very bad and then nothing and then waking up to a nurse's voice. He'd told her he felt sick and she'd said she was giving him something for it but he'd fallen back asleep after that. Later he'd woken to find his family beside him, reassuring him with their soft words and gentle touches before sleep had claimed him again. Don was getting really fed up with the whole being awake in short bursts thing and let out a sigh of frustration.

"Donny?"

That had to be Dad – Charlie knew he was dead meat if he ever tried to call him by that name. Don licked his lips as he attempted to speak, but there was no moisture in his mouth.

"Here you go," Alan spoke as a spoon of ice chips pressed against his lips.

Don readily accepted them and concentrated on the cool wetness as it soothed his mouth and throat. Licking his lips, he waited for another offering but it never came. "More?" he croaked.

"Sure, sorry." Alan spooned another helping into his son's mouth, wiping a stray chip from Don's chin. "Better?"

"Yeah, thanks." Don forced his eyes open and was met by Alan's smiling face. He weakly returned the smile as he blinked the sleep from his eyes. Don's gaze slid around the room, coming to rest on his brother's form sprawled out on the sofa. "He's sleeping. That's good." Don had a feeling Charlie had been through the wringer the past couple of days.

"Yes, sleeping is good," Alan quietly hinted.

Don rolled his eyes. "I've been sleeping forever," he protested. "Let me enjoy being awake for a minute. That's all I'll manage anyway."

Alan squeezed Don's hand as he heard the frustration in his voice. "Your body is telling you that you need to rest. It'll be better tomorrow."

"Promise?" Don asked, hating the way he sounded like a little boy.

"I promise." Alan smoothed Don's hair, a gesture that had always been able to put Don to sleep, no matter how much he fought it. Sure enough, Don's felt his eyes drooping shut, but struggled to stay awake as he heard Charlie's voice.

"He's awake?" Don heard his brother rose from the couch and move to stand next to their father. "Barely awake I see," Charlie teased lightly as he gripped Don's fingers in his. "Good to see your eyes again, Don. I was worried for a while."

"Me too," Don mumbled around a big yawn. "I'm okay now though?"

"Yeah," Charlie said, his voice breaking with emotion. "Took that pesky spleen right out. You're going to be fine now. Just lots of rest and relaxation for a few weeks."

Don groaned. "Weeks?"

"Ah, see now I _know_ you're better," Alan grinned. "Back to your old self."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Don's eyes closed as he spoke and, despite his best efforts, he lacked the energy to drag them open again. His father mumbled something about 'world's worst patient' but Don was already fast asleep.

--

Charlie strolled down the hallways of the hospital as he made his way to his brother's room. He and Alan had argued, coerced, and guilted the nursing staff into letting them violate the visiting hours policy. They had reached a compromise where one man could stay overnight, but the other had to go home and come back in the morning. Alan had another meeting scheduled with Stan, so he and Charlie had agreed that he would stay through the night and Charlie would come back during the day.

Charlie entered the room and was pleased to see Don awake, slightly elevated in bed, and watching a baseball game on TV. "You're looking good this morning," Charlie greeted him.

"I feel better, thanks."

Alan asked, "See what sleeping will do for you?"

"Yeah, yeah," Don grumbled at his father words. "I see."

He looked at Charlie and rolled his eyes, silently imploring him to side with him. Charlie just grinned and shrugged. "Can't argue with that kind of logic."

"I'll remember this next time you want me to take your side," Don playfully growled.

Charlie sat on the couch next to his father and noticed he had finished half of his Sudoku book. "It looks like you didn't get much sleep, though," he whispered.

"He was restless most of the night," Alan whispered back. "A little feverish too, but that cleared up early this morning. I think that's when I finally felt relaxed enough to sleep." He leaned in closer so that Don couldn't hear. "The pain gets pretty bad at times. Don't let him tough guy you into thinking he's okay."

Charlie nodded. "Got it."

"Hey!" Don called from the bed. "What are you two whispering about over there?"

"Nothing," Charlie replied as he flashed his best 'know-it-all little brother' look. "Just didn't want to disturb your game."

"Uh-huh," Don said doubtfully.

"I'm going to head home for the day," Alan announced as he stood. He grimaced as his joints protested loudly. "Maybe run by the chiropractor too. You want me to bring you anything?"

"I'm good," Charlie answered.

"I don't want you to _bring _me anything," Don told him. "I want you to _take_ me home."

Alan's sigh was enough to tell Charlie that this wasn't the first time that Don had started in about going home. "Donny-"

"I've got it, Dad," Charlie cut him off as he glared at his cranky brother. "Go or you'll be late. And tell Stan I said 'hi'."

"Okay," Alan nodded. He stood by Don and placed a tender kiss on his forehead. "I love you, son."

Don didn't protest the gesture of affection and Charlie marveled at how much restraint his brother was showing. "See you, Dad," he called out as Alan left. He turned his attention to Don. "So what's on the schedule for today?"

"Lunch is the same as yesterday," Don groused. "Anna promises me that I can have some sort of real food with supper, but I don't think we have the same definition of the term. Oh, I do get to get out of bed this afternoon."

"So soon?" Charlie asked nervously.

"Not soon enough for me," Don told him. "Besides, she said it will only be for a few minutes. It doesn't hurt the wound, but it is good exercise for me." He remained silent for a moment. "And I'm going to have a long enough recovery as it is."

"So, you know about your time frame for returning to work?"

Don nodded as he looked at Charlie. "Four weeks until desk duty, and four more until I'm back in the field." His eyes filled with tears of frustration. "I don't think I can do that, Charlie."

"Sure you can," Charlie said as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed. "You've got me and Dad for support, not to mention your whole team is cheering for you to get well." He reached out and held his brother's hand, smiling as Don squeezed his fingers. "We'll get through this together, okay? And you can take out all of your frustrations – within reason – on me. How's that sound?"

"My very own Charlie Eppes punching bag?" Don's eyes twinkled behind the tears and he laughed out loud. "How could I say no?"

"Just remember," Charlie warned him. "I get to return the favor as soon as you're well."

"If you can catch me," Don playfully teased.

"I can always catch you... old man."

"Old man?" With a surprising quickness and strength given his condition, Don pulled Charlie down to him. He playfully ruffled his brother's curly locks before sliding his arm down and hugging him to his uninjured shoulder. "Thanks, Buddy. I knew I could count on you."

"Anytime, Don." Charlie closed his eyes and listened to Don's heartbeat – slow and steady – in his ear. "Anytime."

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

Don stared distrustfully at the spoon of green jell-o that was hovering near his mouth. He raised an eyebrow and met Charlie's stare over the top of the undulating mound of gelatin. "No way."

"Come on," Charlie pleaded in exasperation. "If you don't eat it then Anna won't bring you better food tonight. 'Eat all your lunch' – that was the deal, remember?"

"That's not food," Don argued. "That's flavored slime, and I seriously doubt it's fit for human consumption."

"Fine," Charlie sighed as he set the spoon down. "You win. But I'm telling Dad." He felt some sense of satisfaction at the worried look that crossed his older brother's face and triumphantly grinned. "Want to try again?"

"Just keep your hand steady," Don advised. "Maybe I'll be able to stomach it if I don't have to watch it wiggle like that." Charlie rolled his eyes but held the spoon up again, watching as Don swallowed the lime-flavored dessert, frowning in disgust.

"Remind me never to get blown up again," he muttered as Charlie spooned him another mouthful.

Charlie laughed aloud and Don raised a questioning eyebrow. "I never realized the effect that jell-o had on you. Man, you're lucky too, because I would have used it to torment you when we were kids. "'Mom, can we have jell-o for dessert again?'" Charlie was laughing so hard that he dropped some of the gelatin on the tray, both brothers watching in revulsion as it landed with a wet plop. After a moment they looked at each other and both dissolved in a fit of laughter, only stopping when Don's injuries protested the movement.

"Ow," he winced as he grabbed his stomach. "Don't make me laugh so hard."

"Sorry," Charlie apologized as he wiped the green mess from the tray. "That stuff is pretty gross, though."

"So be a good brother and toss the rest in the trash," Don winked. "And tell Anna I ate it all."

"Just this once out of pity for you." Charlie stood over the trash and paused, holding the offending substance over the receptacle. "And only if you take another pain pill."

"I don't need it."

"You do too," Charlie argued. "You just said your side hurt."

"I did not say that."

"You said 'ow'." He paused as Don glared at him. "I mean it, take another pill or I tell Anna _and_ Dad that you've been a bad patient."

"Extortion is illegal, Chuck. And not a good idea when the person you're extorting is a Federal agent."

Charlie pointedly looked his brother up and down. "I'll take my chances," he snorted. "Seriously, Don, you don't have to be in pain."

"Fine," the older man sighed. "If it will keep everyone off my case, I'll do it." He visibly pouted as Charlie called the nurse's station and made his request. A few minutes later, Don was starting to feel the effects of the narcotic. "I'm so sick of sleeping. It's all I do lately."

He heard Charlie move to his side and felt a warm hand on his forearm. "I know, Don," he whispered. "But you need to rest so you can get better." Charlie lightly massaged the arm beneath his hand, grinning as Don's eyes began to droop. "Just go to sleep and when you wake up, you can get out of bed and then eat a 'real' dinner."

"Promise to sneak me something in if it isn't edible," Don whispered as he allowed his eyes to close.

"I promise."

--

"Reeves."

"Hey, Megan," Charlie spoke quietly into his phone so as not to wake his slumbering brother.

"Charlie!" she joyously replied. "How's Don?"

"Good. He's doing well after yesterday's surgery. He had his spleen removed but the doctor says he'll still be able to lead a normal, healthy life and return to work as a field agent."

"Thank God," Megan whispered in relief. "The guys will be so happy to hear that. They've been driving me up the wall asking for updates."

"I'm sorry," Charlie told her. "I've been meaning to call, but everything's been so hectic."

"I understand, Charlie. Don't worry about it. So, when is a good time for visitors?"

"I think tomorrow afternoon or early evening would be best. No shop talk, okay?"

"Charlie," she sighed. "You know he's going to ask. Especially about the case he was working on before the accident."

"Did you catch the guy?" Charlie inquired.

"Yeah. Amita and Larry showed us your calculations and results. We got him pretty quickly after that."

"I suppose it will be good for Don to hear about that," Charlie thought aloud. "But that's it – no more cases."

"Deal." She paused and murmured something to someone in the background. "Tell Don we all say 'hi' when you talk to him again."

Charlie chuckled. "Will do. Tell everyone I say 'hi' too."

"Is there anything we can bring you or your father tomorrow? Anything at all?"

"No thanks, we're all set. Just bring yourselves."

Megan chuckled. "Okay, Charlie. We'll see you tomorrow."

Charlie tucked his phone back into his pocket and flipped open his laptop. As he was about to pull up his class notes a groan from the bed drew his attention. Looking up, he noticed Don was restlessly shifting his legs while turning his head from side to side. Another groan was all it took for Charlie to sprint to the bedside.

He leaned over Don's body and watched as his brother's eyes rapidly twitched beneath the closed eyelids. Don must be having a dream, and not a pleasant one by the look of it. Charlie was reaching out to shake his brother's good shoulder, when Don suddenly jerked to the side, rolling onto his injured shoulder. Don's eyes flew open as he yelped in pain. Charlie grabbed his brother's elbow and rolled him onto his back. "Careful," he quietly whispered.

"Oh God, that hurts," Don hissed as he closed his eyes and breathed through the pain. "What'd I do?"

"You were dreaming," Charlie told him. "For some reason you rolled onto your side. Are you okay now? Do you need a nurse or something for the pain?"

"I'm fine, Charlie," Don assured him. "Just give me a minute." He slowly opened his eyes as the pain began to recede. "Dreaming, huh?" Charlie mutely nodded. "I don't remember it. Probably a good thing given what's lurking in my subconscious these days."

"Tell me about it," Charlie agreed as he propped on the side of the bed.

"You've been having dreams about it too?" Don asked softly, a feeling of protectiveness washing over him as his brother nodded. "You want to talk about them? About what happened?"

"No," Charlie shook his head. "No, I don't."

"Okay, Buddy. How about we make a deal?" The younger man cocked his head questioningly. "When I'm better and I finally bust out of this place, you and me sit down and have a nice, long talk. We're both going to need it." Don placed his hand on top of Charlie's. "All right?"

"All right," Charlie agreed.

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

Don couldn't believe something as simple as standing up could hurt so much, but God did it ever. He sensed Charlie by his left side, his hands hovering near – but not touching – Don's left hip. Don refused to contribute to his brother's worry anymore than he already had, so he bit his lip to keep from moaning in pain. The end result actually turned out to be worse as he bit hard enough to draw blood.

"Don!" Charlie cried in alarm. "You're bleeding!"

Anna looked up and from where she'd been watching Don shuffle his feet, frowning as she saw the red stain on his mouth. "Don," she chided as she grabbed a Kleenex and gently wiped at the blood. "You agreed to tell me if you were in pain."

"Didn't hurt that bad at first," he lied. _But it's killing me now,_ he added silently. He had no desire to lie back down in the bed, but even he had to admit that he was done for the day. "Hurts now," he reluctantly admitted.

"Grab his hip and steady him like I showed you earlier," Anna told Charlie. That had been a fun game – learning where you could and could not touch Don. His left arm and pretty much the entire left side of his body from the waist up was on the 'do not touch' list. Anna had quickly improvised by realizing that his hips were not bruised or injured at all. Charlie had protectively kept his hands hovering there at all times, except for the accidental contact with Don's lower back, right on top of a kidney. Don had been incredibly impressed that not only had he not passed out from the pain, but he'd subtly shifted so that Charlie's grip was in the correct spot and he'd never even discovered the pain that he'd inflicted.

Charlie obeyed her order, this time grabbing onto the correct spot. Together the two steered a very tired and sore Don back to bed. He sat down and let Anna guide him back to lie on his pillow while Charlie gently lifted his feet up and removed the hospital-issue slippers. Charlie pulled the sheet over his brother with the utmost of care while Anna made a note on Don's chart.

"Congratulations, Don," she smiled. "That was a good twelve minutes out of bed."

"That was all?" Don asked wearily. "It felt like a week."

"Small steps," she reminded him. "Tomorrow we'll start working our way up to a longer period of time." She produced a thermometer – seemingly from mid-air, Don thought – and stuck it under his tongue. She waited a minute before removing it and taking the reading. "No fever tonight. Now," she met Don's guilty gaze. "How bad is the pain on a scale of one to ten?"

Don considered lying but the intensity in the nurse's eyes was too much for him to take. "Seven?" he suggested cautiously.

"Okay, my Don Eppes conversion calculator tells me you're probably at an eight or nine by now."

He stared at Anna. "You're kidding, right?"

"No," she told him. "Your brother helped me design it. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt and say eight." She pulled a syringe from her pocket and injected it into his IV. "You should be feeling the effects of that very soon. And remember, Don," she added from the doorway. "There's nothing wrong with being honest when you're in pain. No shame in that, okay?"

As she left, Charlie sat next to Don's bedside and sighed. "Why do you always have to be so stubborn?"

Don turned his head to face his brother and frowned. "Look who's talking," he teased.

"I'm serious, Don," Charlie snapped. "What can you possibly gain by remaining silent when you're in pain?"

Don sighed and rolled his head away from Charlie. "Just drop it," he quietly whispered.

"No."

Don let out a deep breath, trying to calm his rising frustration. "Charlie," he warned.

"I mean it, Don!" Charlie yelled, both men surprised by the tone and volume of his voice. He consciously lowered his tone before continuing. "Are you ashamed – is that it? You think admitting that you're in pain is tantamount to being weak?"

"I. Don't. Want. To. Talk about it." Don wished more than anything to roll over in bed and turn his back to Charlie, but that would involve lying on his left side – something he was not planning to do again anytime soon.

"You don't have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders," Charlie said in a barely audible voice, yet the words slammed into Don like a ton of bricks. He felt tears of frustration forming and quickly closed his eyes to hide them from Charlie, who was again speaking in that feather-light voice. "You _can_ let your guard down and the world won't fall apart." Don sensed Charlie moving impossibly closer, his voice right next to Don's ear. "That's what your family is for – to help you when you need it." Charlie's hand cupped his cheek as he quietly – pleadingly – whispered, "Just let me in. Let us in."

Don didn't know if it was Charlie's touch or his soft words, but something had broken through his defenses and he let out a soft sigh that could have been a sob. "It's hard," he whispered in a voice filled with emotion. "I don't like not being in control."

"I know," Charlie whispered sympathetically. "But you have me and Dad. You trust us, right?"

"Of course I do."

"Then let us help."

Don forced back the tears and opened his eyes, seeing Charlie regarding him with an expression of love. He smiled sadly and nodded at the younger man. "Okay, I'll try."

"Good," Charlie grinned ear to ear. "That means you have to be honest with us from now on, Don. Deal?"

Before his brother could respond, Alan came strolling into the room. "Traffic is horrible today," he grumbled, though nothing could wipe the smile off his face from seeing his two sons, alive and chatting with each other. "And my meeting ran late. How'd it go today?"

"Don got out of bed and walked!" Charlie happily bragged about his brother.

Alan asked, "Really? So soon?" His voice was tinged with concern.

"Don't worry," Charlie quickly jumped in. "He took it easy, only twelve minutes and then back to bed." Charlie beamed at his brother. "Small steps, right Don?"

Don found himself momentarily speechless as he marveled at just how supportive and in control his younger brother was as he took the lead in handling Alan's ever-present worry. Flashing his younger brother an appreciative grin, Don spoke to his father. "He's right, Dad. Small steps are the key." The room grew quiet as Charlie and Don regarded each other with knowing expressions and Alan tried to absorb his son's sudden change in attitude. Don's stomach broke the silence as it emitted a loud growl. While his father and brother chuckled, Don asked, "When's dinner? I'm looking forward to some real food."

--

'Real' food turned out to be baked chicken, with a conspicuous lack of seasoning, and steamed rice and vegetables. "This is almost as bad as the jell-o," Don pouted, glaring at Charlie as he laughed.

"Eat," Alan ordered, his tone brooking no argument.

Don rolled his eyes, gave a long-suffering sigh, and awkwardly began the task of cutting the chicken with only one hand. Charlie held his tongue, remembering the vehemence with which Don insisted that he start feeding himself again. As the chicken sidled out from under the edge of the fork for the fourth time, Charlie spoke up. "Let me at least cut it up for you." At Don's glare, he hastily clarified, "Just cut it into smaller pieces, that's all."

"Fine," Don grumbled as he handed his brother the plastic knife and fork. He sulked as Charlie quickly cut the chicken into bite-sized pieces and handed the utensils back, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Thanks," Don said, laughing despite himself at Charlie's antics.

"Anytime," Charlie said. He glanced at his watch and sighed. "I've got to get home and prepare for a meeting with one of my students tomorrow morning. I'll leave you in Dad's capable hands."

"Okay," his brother said with a hint of disappointment in his voice. "See you tomorrow?"

Charlie sensed Don's need and grinned at him. "You bet," he assured him. "I'll be here right after lunch, just in time for your walking session." Charlie suddenly remembered his conversation with Megan. "Oh yeah, your team is going to be stopping by tomorrow evening."

Don's face lit up at the news. "I was wondering if they even missed me," he joked.

"I think I heard Megan coercing them in the background... Kidding! I'm just kidding!" Charlie sidestepped the wadded up napkin that Don tossed at him.

"Boys, boys," Alan attempted to scold them, but was betrayed by his fit of laughter.

"All right, I'm going." Charlie was at the door when Don called to him. He stopped and peered back over his shoulder. "Yeah, bro?"

"Ask the nurse to bring me a pain pill?"

Charlie was doing somersaults in his mind, but calmly nodded at Don. "Sure thing."

"Are you in pain?" Alan worriedly asked as he moved to hover by Don's bedside.

"Some," Don nodded. "But I want to get it under control before it gets worse."

Alan looked up at his youngest son with an expression of complete and utter bewilderment on his face. Charlie winked and nodded. 'Thank you,' Alan mouthed to him. Charlie grinned and slipped out of the room.

TBC


	13. Chapter 13

Several days later Don was walking down the hall with Charlie at his side – not for support, but for company. Don had been slowly but steadily increasing his time out of bed and on his feet ever since his conversation with Charlie. He was finally at the point where he was spending more time out of the bed than in it, and ready to go home.

"So," Charlie began as they walked together. "You never did tell me how the visit with your team went."

"It was great," Don smiled. "They caught McPherson – the one that you were helping us with?"

"Like I'd ever forget that case now."

"Good point," Don nodded somberly. "Don't guess I ever will either. Anyway, they caught him. Megan said your work really helped out, but then that doesn't surprise me at all." Don gave him a playful shove with his good shoulder.

"Thanks," Charlie mumbled as he blushed.

"Megan's been leading the team, and Colby and David have been behaving." Don paused and grinned at Charlie. "Wouldn't tell me what her secret was. Although Colby mentioned something about 'martial arts master'." Don shook his head. "Whatever that means."

"I bet they can't wait to have you back."

"Yeah," Don snorted. "Colby told me he's taken it upon himself to 'keep my desk warm for me'."

Charlie snickered. "Very generous of him. Bucking for a pay raise, no doubt."

"Bucking for something."

The professor laughed as they kept walking down the hall. As they rounded a corner Don waved at an orderly who'd been helping him to his PT sessions. "How's the arm?" the young man asked.

"It's good, Mike. Really good." Don gestured at Charlie. "Have you met my brother?"

"I don't think I have," Mike said as he stuck out a hand. "Mike Andrews."

"Charlie Eppes. Nice to meet you."

"Likewise," Mike smiled. "Gotta run, though. See you around Don."

Don waved good-bye as the orderly dashed down the hall.

Charlie inquired, "How _is_ the arm?"

"Much better. The doc said the sling can come off in a couple more days. Personally, I think I could do without it now, but doctor's orders and all that." He watched as Charlie raised an eyebrow. "Hey, a wise man once told me that I had to take small steps in my recovery."

"Did he now?"

"Yes," Don smiled brightly. "He did."

"Sounds like a true genius."

"In some things," Don teased. "So, did Dad tell you the news? If my liver and kidneys check out, I'm home by the end of the week."

"That's great!" Charlie joyously exclaimed. "You'll be staying with us?"

"For a while," Don nodded. "It'll be nice to have someone to wait on me hand and foot."

"Right," his brother said sarcastically.

"Maybe even get me a little bell I can ring for service."

"Oh, there may be a bell getting rung, but I don't think that's what you're talking about."

Don laughed heartily as the two reached his room. "You staying for a while?"

"Yeah," Charlie said. "I'm sorry I haven't been around as much as I would have liked the past few days. Larry got sick, and Amita had a conference, so I had to cover my own classes."

"No problem," Don promised him. "I understand. Besides, you were there when I really needed you. Thanks." He sat on the edge of the bed and swung his feet up, a tiny grunt of pain escaping his lips.

"Let me help," Charlie insisted as he positioned Don's pillows and made sure the injured shoulder was resting comfortably. "Better?"

"Yeah," Don whispered as he yawned. "Thanks, Buddy."

"Anytime." He watched as Don fought to stay awake. "Go to sleep, Don. I'll be here when you wake up."

Don nodded faintly and the room was soon filled with his soft snores.

--

Charlie pulled a chair next to Don's bed and sat, content just to watch his big brother sleep. He'd read the pamphlets on post-splenectomy care and knew that Don would have to take frequent naps for the next week or so as he built up his energy reserves. It was worrying to see Don so tired, but it was part of his recovery, and that was all Charlie needed to know to quell his concerns. He finally felt that Don was truly on the road to recovery.

TBC


	14. Epilogue

Don smiled as he finished his last set of reps. He gently lowered the Nautilus weights back to their original position and shook his arms out at his sides, relishing the feeling of strength that had been absent for so long. He closed his eyes for a moment and listened to the sound of Charlie's chalk clicking and tapping away on the nearby blackboard.

Don had been surprised when Charlie had bought the home gym, and touched when he had condensed his collection of chalkboards to make room for the gym in the garage. Even though Don was much healthier and staying at his apartment, Charlie had left the gym alone, telling Don to come over whenever he wanted to – an offer that Don was taking him up on. Between the home gym, his father's treadmill, and the basketball hoop outside, Don felt like he had a free membership to an exclusive health club. He chuckled aloud at the thought.

"What?" Charlie's voice called from across the garage.

"Just enjoying the free membership at the Eppes Family Gym," Don answered as he stood and wiped his face with a hand towel.

"I'm glad," Charlie grinned as he turned his attention back to the chalkboard. "The free trial ends as soon as you're cleared for field work."

"Is that right, Chuck?" Don teased as he threw the towel at Charlie, who managed to just barely duck out of the way.

"Call me Chuck again and I'll back bill you for the past five weeks."

Don grinned mischievously as he stood next to Charlie, who was again scribbling away on the blackboard. "You know, _Chuck_," Don emphasized the last word. "I think you need to relearn a little respect for your older brother."

"Oh yeah?" Charlie snorted without looking at Don.

"Yeah!" Don exclaimed as he grabbed Charlie and playfully ruffled his curls. "Maybe a haircut? Dad would be thrilled."

"Don't you even joke about that!" Charlie wriggled out of Don's arms and dashed to the door of the garage. He smiled back at Don who still stood by the chalkboard as he laughed. "By the way, Dad's letting me help with dinner."

Don joked, "That sounds scary."

"You have no idea."

"What?" Don demanded as his brother's face lit up with an evil grin.

"I'm in charge of dessert."

"No..." Don trailed off. "You wouldn't..."

"I would." Charlie waggled his eyebrows. "I did."

"Charlie," he growled.

"You know what they say – there's always room for j-e-l-l- Oh!" Charlie exclaimed and ran for dear life as Don chased after him.

The End


End file.
